


Warm nightmares

by Needs_to_stop_looking_at_valves



Category: Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: F/M, Flashbacks, Forehead Touching, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:00:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24011686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Needs_to_stop_looking_at_valves/pseuds/Needs_to_stop_looking_at_valves
Summary: Ratchet woke up, having had a fairly bad nightmare. When he thinks hes alone, he quickly finds out just how wrong he is.
Relationships: Arcee/Ratchet (Transformers), Optimus Prime/Ratchet
Comments: 2
Kudos: 37





	Warm nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> This is for @eronposts on tumblr. I REALLY hope you like it!

You know the funny thing about bad memories? They were a lot like water. Most of them sat there frozen in the back of your mind, still and unnoticed, yet solid, like ice. But occasionally, on those very rare instances, they melted, allowing them to trickle through the cracks of the mind, unable to be stopped. It was a cycle that Ratchet was very familiar with. He had just shot open awake in berth, drenched in condensation and short of breath. Old memories tended to melt in his sleep. He should be used to it, but primus did it ever strike him like a bash to the head.  
He groaned as sat up, peering at Arcee right next to him. She was slumbering sweetly, soundly. She was going to kill him for not waking her up like he promised, but she didn't deserve more strife, only recently deciding she was okay with resting (being in stasis for that long made bots have a bad case of Somniphobia, and Arcee had it pretty bad, probably the worst he'd ever seen).

"Sorry. You can kill me much later if it'd make you feel better. I love you."

He leaned down to kiss her shoulder, and quickly covered it with the sheet. He was careful as he walked out of the room (knowing full well the floorboard creaked towards the left side), and even extra careful as he closed their door, awaiting for any sound coming from the room (Arcee tended to have the worst panic attacks when she realized she awoke alone). He made his way to the kitchen area, and flipped on the lights. He awaited for a moment, as if expecting someone to pop up and scold him for making the darkness disappear. Nothing.

"Thank the primes...if Bee was up I'd just throw his aft out the window."

Bumblebee was a good sparkling, all in all, but primus was he annoying. Ratchet went to the coffee pot, and switched it on. Mixmaster and Scrapper had made this area for them, and it made life just a little more bearable. Ratchet had liked his coffee black as night, but he was growing fond of creamers (probably because Arcee insisted on him trying some. She loved hazelnut), and selected some 'southern butter pecan'. He allowed the coffee to brew as the water in his processor slowly froze over. Funny, how the heat of a nice cup helped freeze the bad away.

A hook. Blank optics. Energon. A friend in begging. Failure. Servos, useless. 

He shook his helm violently as the coffee dinged, finally ready. A few words meant so much, replayed many movies that should be locked away forever. He poured himself a cup, added his creamer, and was about to walk out, when he realized just how early in the morning it was. What the hell, might as well get one for his fem, cushion the blow of her wrath once she finds out he had another nightmare.  
He pulled a tray from a cabinet, added the coffee pot, an empty cup, a small clear cup of her favorite creamer, and a few cookies (Mixmaster had made them. The brute was quite skilled with those sausage fingers, surprisingly. Even made Arcee's favorite; energon shortbread, covered in a cyber grapefruit glaze). He turned the light off with his shoulder, and made his way through the hall. Despite the bad start to the morning, at least that was all the events he'd have to go through today. Least, that's what he thought.  
He was about to open the door when he heard a loud crash in the living room. He dashed through, to find the lights on, with Optimus standing there, swinging his axe like a madman.

"GET BACK! DON'T TOUCH ME!!"

One would assume there was an enemy in the room. Only, Ratchet couldn't see anyone. Ratchet dashed over to Optimus, standing in front of him and holding onto his shoulders, stopping another swing. Optimus shook terribly, color drained from his usually calm, youthful face.

"Prime! Prime! What's wrong!?"

Optimus didn't speak. Just gawked. Just shook. Ratchet trailed his optics, and found the culprit. A spider, scuffling across the floor, clearly trying to find a way out. Ratchet took the empty glass cup from the floor (he hadn't recalled dropping the tray, honestly), tore out a page from a magazine that was conveniently laid on the sofa, and scooped the spider, safely securing it. Once Optimus saw he was safe, his axe plummeted itself to the ground, blade first, and he had to grab onto the sofa just to stand on his own two pedes. Ratchet was about to speak, when he saw tears slowly cascade from his optics. They weren't sad tears, nor were they angry. They were a last resort. All Optimus's body could force itself to do.

"Hey, what's boss bot's deal?"

Bumblebee, Bulkhead, Prowl, and Arcee had flooded into the room, worry scattered across their features. Ratchet thought about it, and decided it was his turn to take control of the situation. He handed the spider to Prowl, simultaneously taking a blanket off the sofa (they surprisingly had a lot of people spend the night on the thing, hence why it seemed to have just about everything).

"You. Handle the bug."

"I already do with Bumblebee."

"Hey, you hippy dippy whor-"

"You, get his axe, clean the mess. We'll be back."

Ratchet left them to it as he walked right up to Optimus, covering his shoulder with the fabric, then his arm.

"Just walk."

Ratchet was better at handling more of a physical type of medical attention, but he was old friends with someone in the mental health field (primus he wished he could remember his name. Could remember him and those glasses, but not the damn name), and knew he couldn't keep the kid in the same room as either the creature, or the crew. He guided the prime, carefully moving him as he just walked, as he said. Ratchet paused him as they went to the kitchen, and pulled a chair, helping Optimus sit down. Getting this far was a feat, what with the tears blinding him, and the wild rattling of his plates. Ratchet dug into the cabinet again, and plucked out an energon goodie from its jar. He placed it in the prime's shaking hand, momentarily spooking him.

"Shut ya optics. Tell me what ya feel."

Optimus hesitated to obey, his harsh breathing possibly blocking out the other's words, before he shut off his optics, tears still not ceasing their assault. His thumbs shook, trying to find something stable. 

"Breathe. Then try again."

Optimus took a shaky inhale, once, twice, thrice, before his thumbs softly ran over the treat.

"It's...rough. Kinda grainy. And...round, sorta smooth."

"Feel the grains come off onto your servos?"

"...yeah. Feels kinda like sand."

"Exactly. Now eat it, tell me what it tastes like."

Optimus hesitated. Not many knew this, but concentrating on one specific object helped a panic attack, mainly in terms of helping the person feel grounded. Optimus, only slightly trembling now, brought the treat to his mouth, letting it soak onto his glossa. His mouth couldn't properly form words, but Ratchet could more or less get the gist of it.

"It's...hard. Sweet, a little too much."

"It IS Mix's first time making energon goodies."

"I like it. It...feels good. Solid. Just a little bit grainy."

Ratchet could understand the repetition in his choice of words. Taking specific traits of any one thing and affirming it, did wonders in terms of grounding oneself. 

"Optimus. Is it okay if I touch you?"

"...yes. Yes, that's fine."

Ratchet scooted his seat just a bit closer, and placed his hand over the other's, feeling the shaking cease under him.

"Is this comfortable?"

"Yes."

"Can you open your optics, please?"

Optimus took a moment, but opened his optics, gazing over at Ratchet. Both said nothing, wallowing in the stillness, before Ratchet lightly tapped his servos against his hand.

"You feelin' alright now, kiddo?"

"Not...completely. But I'm better. Much better."

"You wanna tell me exactly what happened? I've seen ya with spiders, and the jumping is normal, but the panic attacks are a bit new."

Optimus swallowed what was left of his treat, lightly smacking his lips to hold resonance of the sweet flavor. Yet again, he spoke nothing, up until Ratchet's hand lightly clenched.

"I...uhm...I had a dream. I dreamt Elita was...okay. That me, her, and Sentinel were okay. Then there were...spiders. Like, rains of spiders. Like, the way you see flood, but instead of water, all spiders. Small, black, some were huge with big, droopy, sticky fangs. They swallowed her whole, and Sentinel left me. I...I was suffocating in webbing, unable to do...anything. The one thing I hate doing the most, is absolutely nothing when I HAVE to. Then I woke up. I went to the living room to try to watch tv, something to calm down. I went to grab the remote, and there was a spider on me. I tried to wipe it off but it wouldn't LEAVE, then I just...lost it. I was swinging before I realized what was going on. Next thing I recalled, you were guiding me into the kitchen."

"Ah. That makes sense. Sometimes these things just...come up. Permission to give a pearl of wisdom?"

"Permission granted, and honestly, wanted."

"Mistakes are just that. Mistakes. Things that are already done, and can't be fixed. I know you've probably heard something like that before, but I don't think it's something most think of carefully. People tend to see it as 'get over it, it's already happened', when in reality, it's along the lines of 'it's already happened, and all we can do is deal with the aftermath'. You've offered the lady a chance at redemption, Sentinel burned his bridge with you, Ultra Magnus already gave you your punishment. Which I mean he forced you to know Bumblebee, and that's plenty punishing."

Optimus gave a soft chuckle at that, his smile, although sad, was present as Ratchet continued. 

"You ain't ever gonna forget that day, Optimus. No one expects you to. But what we do expect is for you to talk to us about these things. Optimus, ya more than just our team leader. You're our friend. A real, honest, genuine one. As someone who still struggles with the past as well, I understand what you're going through. So just know I'm here for you. We all are."

Ratchet leaned forward, and plunked his forehead against the others. While he was in a sort of relationship with Arcee, there was also something between him and the prime that he couldn't very well deny. A sort of connection that was more loving than anything physical. In a way, Ratchet genuinely loved Optimus. Did Optimus return said feelings? Who knew. He was still figuring out himself, let alone figuring out the details of another spark. Ratchet knew his affections weren't completely in vain however, given how Optimus slightly leaned forward into the contact. There was a comfortable, passive stillness between them. One that Optimus appreciated more than Ratchet could ever fathom.

"That...means a lot, Ratchet. Thank you."

"Anytime, Prime."

Their optics were on each other like stickers on a bumper. The action of Ratchet slowly lifting his other hand to hold the others cheek, didn't feel out of place. It felt...comfortable. Natural. Something to sink into, still maintaining the others gaze. Optimus's cheek was so soft, so warm to the touch. After carefully caressing his thumb over the others cheek, he gave a small smile to the prime.

"If you're feeling better, I can make you a cup of coffee."

"I'd appreciate that, if it's not too much trouble."

"You always treat yourself like such a burden, prime. You'd be surprised the lengths we'd go through for you."

He gave his cheek a light pat, before standing up, and starting the coffee (thankfully they had a back up coffee pot. You ever want a gift for the team, get them a backup of anything, as they break shit like crazy). He peered back behind him, and tried not to smile. Optimus sat there, face bright (despite his attempt to hide it with his hand), audials limp as he watched Ratchet, in, dare Ratchet say, a rather lovesick gaze. Poor thing nearly jumped out of his metal when he heard Ratchet talk again.

"Sorry, didn't ask. Ya want a creamer?"

"Uhm, y-yes please. The peppermint bark, if we have any."

Ratchet gave a nod as Optimus clung his blanket tightly to his frame. Bad memories clung to the mind, but good memories? Clung to the spark.

And Optimus will forever have a place in his own.


End file.
